


La Sucia

by NinaFey



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Travel, monster of the week type thing, post iwtb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaFey/pseuds/NinaFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Scully confront a creature from Central American folklore while on holiday. Set in the trip they took in IWTB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Sucia

Jorge Luis jumped off his friend’s pick up, kicking up a dust on the road. He mumbled about seeing them tomorrow on the field, neither he nor they could be sure, with all the alcohol now running through his blood stream. He whistled one last time and banged on the truck’s bed to urge them to leave. He was walking as straight as he could, with the crickets chirping everywhere and the wind disturbing the trees. A chicharra started singing, he always did hate those things, as a young boy he always imagined those ugly things to be monsters waiting in the matorrales, ready to devour him. He had been more scared of them than el cadejo, although he still did shudder whenever a black dog passed him a little too quickly. Sometimes he would find checking himself for his own soul, like an idiot would do, he’d say to himself. But el guaro he had drunk with Victor and the others was quickly returning the smile to his face and the cool breeze some of the confidence in his step.

And there she was, just by the river. Her black hair was held in a long braid and she was dressed in a white cotton dress. Had he been sober he would have dismissed her as india and would have walked away with nothing more than a click of his tongue and teeth thrown in her direction. But tonight, Jorge Luis was fuelled by the breeze, guaro and his week’s wages in his pocket. He crossed the high grass as fast as he could and caught up with her. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even raise her eyes to him, kneeling as she was by the water. He spoke to her, his speech was slurred and she didn’t reply. Jorge Luis tried untying his tongue and speaking more clearly, maybe then she’d reply. Finally, a girlish giggle escaped her as she rose to her feet. The girl then moved to get past him but he grabbed her by the wrist. She might have asked to be let go, might have said she needed to get home but Jorge Luis wasn’t really listening.

All he could think to do was to tell her that she had a nice smell and look to her, that she really shouldn’t be near the river at this time of the night, some stranger could hurt her. The girl laughed nervously and averted her eyes from gaze. She fell silent again and softly tried tugging her wrist away from him. He pulled her forward, asking what was one kiss, really? But as her face drew nearer to his, her dark and soft skin turned white, dry and wrinkled. Gone was her braid and her white hair now fell on her exposed breasts. She let a cackle, he could have sworn that even the chicharra had been scared silent. She continued laughing and now it was she who was tightly grasping his wrist. There was no way he could free himself, he tried running but her hold on him was strong as a bull’s. A chill invaded his back and ran all the way up his face and suddenly he couldn’t even beg the old woman to let him go. Mute and powerless, he was. Finally she released him and he ran as fast as his feet allowed him.  He could still hear laughing in the distance and saying the words that’d hunt him for the rest of his life “toma tu teta que soy tu nana!”

* * *

Every once in a while she could feel a gentle squeeze on her hand, each one coinciding with a close curve with a view to pine covered cliffs.  It was only fair, Scully thought, after all she had nearly cut his circulation for the duration of one of their flights the day before.  She looked at Mulder, with his eyes shut, pretending his motion sickness did not exist and neither did the sharp drops bordering the two way road.  Scully knew he had been going around the details of this trip for weeks, ever since he promised they’d escape the darkness together. It was perhaps the first time he ever took into account budgetary issues surrounding travel. Maps were spread out in his study, even if Mulder could have perfectly done the same online. She had to admit it was nice seeing him like that, with his reading glasses at the tip of his nose going over documents and maps with a half-eaten sandwich in one hand.

All he had wanted from her were clear dates and a preference for the type of climate; being in the middle of winter she opted for warmth and sun, although Florida should be avoided at all costs. A few weeks later they found themselves on route to Honduras, like birds escaping the winter.  Sixteen missionaries from Georgia boarded with them on their layover and Mulder managed to get in some kind of argument with at least three of them, finally blurting out that he did not think evangelizing the population of the small nation would solve anything.  She nudged him lest they got a whole congregation after them, although it wouldn’t be the first time.  Not too long after, the apparent leader of the mission, spoke against the Catholic majority and condescendingly said that “those good people don’t know any better.” She bit her tongue as Mulder looked at her in mild amusement, but Scully said nothing as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

At touch down the change in atmosphere was palpable. They had landed in a northern city, just an hour away from the coast. Scully was positive her hair had curled from the humidity and she felt her complexion turning red in a few minutes. Mulder’s t-shirt was stuck to his back and he blew air through his mouth and impatiently smacked his passport against his thigh.

 “Well, we wanted to escape the cold, didn’t we?” He said looking at her apologetically.

“I’m not complaining.” She laughed lightly as to reassure him. “Although, I’m sure Pastor Huckabee will somehow work this heat into a sermon of the oncoming apocalypse.”

At their hotel they were told to rest for the day, as the bus ride to the Mayan ruins the following day was not an easy 3 hour ride. Mulder spent at least a good ten minutes hovering shirtless over the AC  as she washed the “airplane”off her.  They both stripped down to their underwear and were lying in bed going over their travel plans, they were to spend 4 days at Copán Ruinas, the town adjacent to the Mayan ruins and five extra days at the second largest Bay Island.  It had been a pleasant sort of atmosphere, quietly talking about the upcoming day, exchanging suggestive lines and running their fingers across each other’s bodies. They spent the remainder of the day drifting in and out of sleep and waking only to order room service.

“I think you’re really gonna like this Mayan city, Scully.” He told her with his eyes still shut and his hand grasping hers. “Copán is the only Mayan city to be have been ruled by scientists and scholars instead of warriors.”

“We could use a few more like that.” She said looking at the back of the bus. It was nearly empty, save for other pale Americans. “Didn’t they abandon their cities?” The question prompted him to open his eyes; he had been waiting for it.

“Yeah, there’s varying theories to that. Resource depletion, disease, war, some would even point to…”

“Beings from another world?” Her eyebrows were arched and her tone playful, though a trace of concern was audible.

“Yes.” He paused for a second, worried that she would take that to be the purpose of the trip. “But that’s not why we’re going. Though they were ones to look at the stars.”

“I know. It’s one of the hidden wonders of the world. What archaeologist called at the time the Athens of the New World, for lack of a better term” She eyed him sympathetically as he gave her a puzzled look. “I did have time to go through some of your print outs, you know.”

Half a bag of sunflower seeds and a soda later, Mulder had managed to recompose himself, glad he had Scully to focus his eyes on, instead of the passing trucks and cars. They kept their voices to a whisper; their conversation was all over the place. One moment they had been discussing different cosmologies and the next Scully was talking about the food Monica Reyes had insisted they try, as she was half Honduran herself. Over the course of three hours the inevitable happened, at the sound of English spoken the other Americans had decided to gravitate towards their seats.  A sigh only audible to Mulder escaped Scully lips as the couple gave their obligatory introduction; they were an older couple relieved to have found other Americans. And judging by the glances she exchanged with her partner they were thinking the same thing; they’d be spending half of their time avoiding them.  Bob and Sarah Ware were dressed in nearly identical outfits, brown sandals, khaki shorts and some variation of polo shirts, and both had a bulge under their shirts which was very obviously a money belt, but this went unmentioned.  After giving unrequested details of their domestic life, it was obvious the Wares were turning the conversation on to them.

“So…how did you two meet?” The tone in Mr. Ware voice was too prying and excited for their taste.

Mulder opened his mouth hesitantly, unsure of what to say but before he could say anything Scully hand answered shortly “Work.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Ware was obviously disappointed. “What line of work was it?”

“Government work, I’m afraid.” Mulder replied quickly. Scully would always be grateful for the charm he was able to conjure up in the most uncomfortable of situations. “Just dusty work on files and field reports.”

“My, no wonder you came down here! Looking for a little excitement, are we?” Mr. Ware gave Mulder a light punch on his arm and a wink.  They both had genuinely had no idea how shake off the Wares.  “So you kids staying at El Jaral?”

“No, actually we’ve booked…”

“A sort of camp-type thing.” Mulder interceded, still keeping a fake chipper tone. “She just wanted to be surrounded by the rain forest, isn’t that right, honey?”

“Yes, reconnecting with the inner spirits and what not.” Scully hated how much better Mulder was at improvisation than she was.

“Well, you know _these_ people are very spiritual. You don’t find that sort of thing in America, no sir.” Sarah Ware wagged her finger in a way that made Scully question if she knew how much of caricature she was.

“Make sure you tell them that, Mrs. Ware.” Mulder replied with the most insincere she smile had ever seen on his face.

Thankfully the conversation topics had been exhausted and the older couple said they’d see around and settled back into their seats at the back.

“Just with what inner spirits would you be reconnecting?” Mulder asked with one eyebrow raised.

Scully could only look at him in disbelief.

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.” He replied to his own question, at this she smiled.

* * *

Suyapa was having a hard time pegging the couple she was showing around the ruins today. He was tall and had handsome features but his skin was not white enough to merit to be immediately called a gringo. She, on the other hand,was as short as she was and her skin was fair, it would turn red under the sun and freckles would invade her face if she wasn’t careful. She didn’t look like the type that wouldn’t be though. She lacked that dishevelled look most gringas had, no cheap backpacking sandals or bra straps peeking out of a white tank top. What a strange pair they made. There was this way they looked at each other, Suyapa couldn’t tell if they were old partners or a pair of newlyweds on their honeymoon. He’d occasionally put his hand on the small of her back and she’d lean into his touch, but nothing more. When she happened to catch them in such a moment it felt like she interrupted their intimacy, so she decided that it was best to always begin speaking with her back to them. They _were_ paying for an exclusive tour, after all.

They came across a couple of red guacamayas near the trees, she could tell these weren’t the ones trained for the delight of tourists. They were moving freely across the trees and cawing as they pleased. The couple seemed to have noticed too.

“You, bird, shall live in the trees and will fly across the skies, reach the place of clouds, touch the transparency of the heavens and will not be afraid to fall.” He recited keeping his voice in one single tone and shielding his eyes from the Sun with his hand. Suyapa recognized the lines, once she had translated them to Spanish.

“The Popol Vuh.” She told him surprised that the quote had been offered so spontaneously. “You know it?”

“Some of it.” He replied half embarrassed. “It’s a complex read.”

“That it is. My notes on it have notes. And I live and breathe this stuff, you know.”

“What do you do, Suyapa? Besides this, I mean.” She asked, probably out of politeness but nonetheless, it had been the first time she had been asked this question at Copán.

“I study Mayan archeoastronomy at the national university at the capital. I’m here to get some time on the field and make some money while I’m at it.” Suyapa replied, suddenly believing herself to be blushing under their mutual gaze. At least her skin was dark enough to hide it.

“You’re going to regret having answered that.” She told her briefly with just a hint of a smile.

They carried on with the tour across the ruins, but she wasn’t giving her practiced and routine explanations. They’d both ask complex questions, and she was grateful she actually did her readings, as to avoid the humiliation of not knowing. Listening to them speak was entertaining, she had to admit, it felt like intellectual sparring and new life seemed to have been breathed into them as they did so.  It was as if they had found their favourite pair of jeans at the bottom of the drawer and found that it fit them perfectly, there was a strange happiness to them as they argued and counter-argued.  Usually the tour lasted an hour and half, she’d get a tip and that would be that. But she felt compelled to stay with them a little longer, even breaking tradition and taking them off site to have a late lunch at Doña Mari’s. She handed him some sort of pill, he grumbled and said something about getting old and then gulfed down his grilled steak, fried beans and plantains and fresh tortillas. He stole some chorizos off her plate and she told him to pace himself, even if he was famished. After swallowing a mouthful, he puckered his lips and she swiftly ignored it but gave his hand a squeeze all the same.

“ _Ay, Jorge Luis! Niño! You’re gonna kill me one of these days, you’re as quiet as goddamn cockroach!”_ Doña Mari exclaimed at the back of the place while hitting Jorge Luis with her towel. The couple’s eyes were now focused on the exchange.  Jorge Luis grunted in response and let out a soft moan as he placed a crate of glass soda bottles on the floor.  Doña Mari scribbled something on her notepad and gave it to Jorge Luis.

“ _Give this to Chepe. Make sure he gives you TEN pounds of ground beef, not eight like that son of a bitch did last time. You hear me, Jorge Luis? TEN.”_ Again he only grunted in response and left with her note in his hand.

 _“What’s it been Mari, three months since that poor boy saw La Sucia?”_ Nicolás, a receptionist from one of the inns at town centre, asked her.

 _“Ay, callese usté.”_ She said the thing all Honduran women said before they carried on gossiping. _“It’s been four months. He can’t work at the fields anymore, they’re too close to the river. He’s too scared to even go by them. Won’t go out at night. So I told his mama he could work here.”_

“ _Christ. Could have been worse, if you ask me. At least he’s only a mute now. He didn’t turn stupid or nothin’.”_ Nicolás fanned himself with his newspaper and returned to his meal.

“What was that about?” He asked her quietly.

“Umm…” Suyapa hesitated at first, not knowing quite to explain the situation. She didn’t even believe in it herself. “People claim Jorge Luis saw La Sucia a few months back. As he was heading home from drinking after work,” She paused trying to find a way to translate everything she knew into English. “La Sucia. It’s a folktale…”

“A kind of creature that attacks men by rivers and streams.” He said, once again surprising her.

“Yeah. That’s not the whole story though. You can call her good or bad, it goes either way.”

“Why is that?” She asked, her eyes shifting between her partner and Suyapa.

“See…um. How do I put this? Ok.” She breathed in. “La Sucia only goes after men of a _certain_ reputation. I don’t think there’s an English word for it. But Jorge Luis was that. These are not nice men. Cheaters. Men who don’t take no for an answer,” Suyapa focused her gaze on her alone. “She’ll appear by the water. Long-haired girl, dressed in white…”

She scoffed. “Virginal beauty.”

“Yes, exactly. Anyway, if the man doesn’t approach her or address her in a certain way, she’ll leave him well enough alone. If he does however, as people suspect Jorge Luis did, then she’ll transform into a laughing and naked old woman.” Suyapa decided to exclude certain details she thought unnecessary.

“Scaring the shit out of the men.” He said and took another mouthful of beans. Suyapa appreciated that he had refrained from calling them victims.

“Some families claim their sons were reduced to a different and sad state. Only spending the day drooling. It’s why Nicolás thinks Jorge Luis should think himself lucky for only losing his speech, I suppose. Can’t really feel sorry for him, though.” Suyapa confessed with just a hint of bitterness.

“Sounds interesting…”

“Sounds to me like an extreme reaction to a trauma or fright, but not unheard of. A cultural manifestation of it. A projection of male anxieties too.” She said flatly, while looking at him straight in the eye. A warning, Suyapa realized.

“You don’t think there’s some truth to this, Scully?” He seemed oddly pleased with himself as she rolled her eyes and sighed. “What do you think, Suyapa?”

“Well, I don’t know. Seeing is believing, I guess.” She tried to sound diplomatic.

“Ah, but you’ll never be able to see her.”

“No, I suppose not.” Suyapa laughed lightly.

“Never thought it was something worth looking into?”

“Mulder…”

“What?”

“No.”

Suyapa understood the words but they were too simple to comprehend. They were speaking a secret language and suddenly she felt like an intruder.

“It’s a folktale. Something to scare the kids at night. And like you said, she’ll never appear to me….so no. I never thought I’d look into it.”

There was this look he gave her, it was lovesick, pleading and challenging all in the same. She shook her head and took a deep breath.

“Oh God.” She took a sip of her te de Jamaica “Of course.” She said in resignation.

 Suyapa was still left rummaging her brain for the meaning of her words. She felt a decision had been made by the two of them, she just had no idea what it could possibly be.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this before the announcement of their break-up and I'm still in denial. This is part of my folklore and heritage, I always thought it was a good fit for an x-file. I had to cut La Sucia out of a particular academic work so, I guess this is my way of finding an outlet for her. Also there was a culturally insensitive x-files book published before the first movie was released about Central American ruins, so I thought I'd fix that.


End file.
